


At first sniff

by Mix Stitch (Synph)



Series: Wizardverse [15]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Demons, Flirting, Love at First Sight, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/Mix%20Stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sasha sends Zeke to check out a new magic supply store, Zeke isn’t expecting to meet a fellow incubus working inside the store. And he’s certainly not expecting that incubus to be someone that makes him feel things that he hasn’t felt in a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At first sniff

**Author's Note:**

> Contains: mentions of Zeke’s work at a brothel, underage character @ a few months away from majority at age 18, and vague references to learned behavior due to abusive and problematic relationships
> 
> Notes: I’ve been sitting on this for a few days, but I’ve finally decided to post it and hope people like it. *hides face*

As Zeke pushes open the door to the small magic shop down the street from Sasha’s brothel, a bell rings overhead and the smell of incense hits his nostrils.

Zeke sneezes once and then wrinkles his nose as the door shuts behind him without even the slightest nudge of his tail. The store is small and dark, lit by several candles placed on top of bookshelves that are lined with potion ingredients and magical tomes, but it’s far from cramped.

“Hello,” Zeke calls out as he wanders through the store in search of anyone that works there. “Is anyone here? Sasha sent me to arrange an order?”

Shorter than most of the shelves, Zeke he has to walk on the tips of his toes in order to see beyond the dusty books and pickled herbs on every shelves.

Even that doesn’t help and Zeke only winds up with cobwebs tickling his nose and clinging to his hair as a reward. He sneezes again, louder than before and then yelps when a shadow blocks out the light from behind.

Zeke freezes on instinct a second later, closing his eyes and pushing out a shaky breath of air as his fingers curl into loose fists at his side.  His tail starts to lash behind him, flicking from side to side and hitting into the shelves behind him.

“Please don’t do that,” Zeke says, feeling a bit of pride for the way that his voice hardly shakes even as it jumps up an octave. “I don’t like it when people sneak up behind me without warning.”

It’s one of several issues left over from Zeke’s time with Aizen and Idris. It’s one of the mildest ones at that and so when Zeke hears the shuffling sound of footsteps getting farther away, he can relax. He leans on one of the shelves that has books piled on them instead of bottles and sighs, reaching up to flatten his palm over his thudding heart.

“Th-thank you.”

“Please, let me make it up to you.”

The shadow returns, but this time Zeke is expecting it and he turns around expecting to see a shopkeeper or the wizard in charge of the store. Instead, Zeke sees dark brown skin stretched across a lean frame with tattoos  _everywhere_. When he tilts his head back because _everyone_  is taller than he is, his blue eyes meet gleaming green ones and his breath catches in his chest for the second time in several minutes.

“O-oh,” Zeke breathes, stunned by the handsome horned demon standing in front of him. He uncurls his fingers and wipes his sweaty palms over the front of his soft cotton shirt as he tries not to stare at the man standing across from him and doing his best not to loom. “You’re an incubus.”

The other man laughs and then flashes Zeke a smile that has more than a bit of fang exposed.

“I am,” he concedes, giving Zeke a little half-bow that makes Zeke’s face flush red as the candlelight makes the demon’s curving horns gleam green and gold in the light. “And so are you, little one, but you didn’t come here for that. Did you?”

Zeke feels his face warm up and he turns his face to the side so that the demon in front of him can’t see his flushed cheeks. “I-I’m here for Sasha,” he says. “She called in an order and—”

“The order can wait.”

“I-it can?” Zeke squeaks, jerking backwards and nearly braining himself on the corner of a heavy book. Only the demon standing in front of him keeps him from knocking himself out right there and Zeke winds up with his nose crushed against a hard chest. When Zeke breathes in, he can smell spice and heat and—

 _Oh_.

The scent of him makes Zeke flush and he feels an ache start up low in his stomach, the kind of ache that Zeke hasn’t let himself feel in months. His mouth waters and he wants to lift up on the tips of his toes and kiss the other demon’s wide mouth as though they’re not strangers.

Zeke gets his hands up between their bodies and pushes the bigger demon away before he does something that they’ll both regret.

“I-I’m sorry,” Zeke says without looking up at the demon standing in front of him (because he’ll want to kiss him and then where will  _that_ go). “I-I can’t— I don’t—” Zeke shakes his head when words fail him and only the curve of strong fingers against the back of his skull keeps him from craning backwards and hitting his head.

“I think we started on the wrong foot,” the demon says on a low voice, carding his fingers through Zeke’s curly black hair while taking care to avoid the short protrusions of his horns. “My name is Tavares. My master is the owner of this store. He’s not home yet, but I would be happy to entertain you until then. ”

At that, Zeke feels a pang of loss and he closes his eyes tight enough that it almost hurts. He crumples up the front of his shirt in his fingers and gnaws at his bottom lip.

“I-I’m fine,” he says softly. “If your master isn’t here, I should go.” Zeke makes to push past Tavares, but stops when one big hand closes over the bend of his elbow, holding him in place without visible effort. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Please don’t go yet, little one,” Tavares says as Zeke stills underneath the brush of his fingers. “I swear I don’t mean you any harm. I’ll take you to the waiting room if that’s what you want.” Tavares strokes light circles into the soft skin of Zeke’s arm and gives him a beseeching look that makes Zeke want to whine in response and press close. “I meant it when I offered to make it up to you, little one.”

Standing this close together Zeke can smell Tavares’ skin again and his mind blanks briefly as a familiar hunger starts to burn low in his belly. He breathes in deeply and then digs his nails into his palms sharply until the pain makes tears build up in his eyes and some of the sense returns to his head. Being called “little one” reminds Zeke of Idris and Aizen and it  _hurts_ —

“Don’t call me that,” Zeke says sharply. Too sharply.

Tavares’ strong fingers dig into Zeke’s skin for a second and then he pulls back from Zeke’s body. When he speaks again, his voice is carefully devoid of any emotion as though he’s trying to avoid startling Zeke. “What should I call you then?”

“My name,” Zeke blurts out, “It’s Zeke. I-I’m sorry, I—”

Tavares shushes Zeke with a warm, wide smile taking over his face. He doesn’t try to touch Zeke again, but he remains close enough that the possibility of it is a very real thing.

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “I should have paid attention to your signals. I’m sorry, myself. I shouldn’t have gotten distracted just because your scent is—” Tavares cuts himself off and then laughs softly as though he’s amused by something that only he understands.

“My scent is what?” Zeke turns around properly so that he can look at Tavares and look up at the bigger demon. “I don’t get it.”

“You smell good,” Tavares says in a growling tone that makes Zeke’s eyes widen in response as he stares up at him with his tail flicking back and forth behind him. “You walked in and I just wanted to roll around on you.”

Tavares’ big brown hands flex against his sides as though he’s struggling against the instinct to reach for Zeke. He steps forward though, just once, and something flashes in his eyes that smacks of barely controlled hunger.

“I swear I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to,” Tavares promises, “I’ll take you in back to the waiting room and I’ll leave you alone until my master returns. It shouldn’t be long.”

At the thought of being left alone in a strange place, Zeke flinches and shakes his head. He  _still_  can’t handle it. “I don’t want to be alone,” he says in a faintly hysterical rush of words. “We could… talk?” Even though talking is obviously the last thing on Tavares’ mind. “You could explain what you mean about my scent.”

“How old are you, Zeke?”

The suddenness of Tavares’ question makes Zeke blink and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his loose trousers. “I’ll be nineteen this year,” he says, “Why?”

Tavares makes a loud noise of pure frustration and then combs his fingers through the tight curls of his short black hair.

“If I take you back there, we’re not going to do any talking,” he confesses after several moments pass and he gives Zeke a hungry look that makes his head swim. “I can’t do that to you, Zeke. I’m an incubus in my prime and you’re—”

“I’m old enough to consent,” Zeke says before he stops to think about why his age truly matters to Tavares. “I’m old enough to work for Sasha at the brothel. What’s the big deal about me being eighteen?”

Mentioning the brothel makes Tavares’ nostrils flare, but that additional reminder of Zeke’s age seems to keep him in check.

“You haven’t even gone through your first rut yet,” Tavares points out. “You’re supposed to be learning how to feed properly, not bedding down with someone several times older than the country you’re standing in.” He reaches for Zeke and then stops himself mid-gesture. “I know that, and I don’t know  _you_ , but all I want right now is to push you up against one of those damn shelves and kiss you.”

Zeke whines like he does for Sasha when she has her hands in his hair. His knees go liquid, threatening to give way underneath him and once again, only Tavares’ fast intervention keeps him from getting hurt.

Cradled against Tavares’ bigger body, Zeke can’t think. He can’t do anything except breathe in the richness of the other incubus’ scent and arch up until their bodies are pressed together without any space between them.

“You should,” Zeke says, half-drunk on whatever it is that Tavares is putting out.

“Hm?” Tavares makes a quiet, questioning noise against the side of Zeke’s head and his fingers flex against Zeke’s skin. “Should what?”

Zeke wriggles close and rocks forward, moaning when Tavares’ fingers dig into his skin through his light trousers. “Kiss me,” he says with a smile and a soft sigh. “You should kiss me like you wanted.”

In the candlelight, Tavares’ green eyes look like they’re on fire. He licks his lips and then leans in close, crushing Zeke’s body up against the bookcase. He stops just before kissing Zeke with his mouth slanted over the younger demon’s own and then asks one last question. “And after I kiss you?”

Zeke curls his fingers against the nape of Tavares’ neck and squeezes gently in an attempt to comfort the other incubus. “My safeword is ‘marigold’ and I  _will_  use it if I need to stop what we’re doing.”

“I won’t hurt you,” Tavares says from right on top of Zeke’s mouth before he can’t take the teasing touches anymore and he has to kiss Zeke. He slips his tongue past Zeke’s parted lips, kissing the young demon as though he wants to crawl into him and keep him. The hands he has on Zeke’s ass stay right where they are and even though Tavares makes a tease out of trailing his fingers up and down the cleft of Zeke’s ass as the little demon’s tail coils around his arms, he can’t make himself go further.

Not in the front of the store where anyone could walk in on a whim.

Tavares wrenches his mouth away from Zeke’s own. “I’m taking you in back to the waiting room,” he says as Zeke’s body arches taut underneath his. “I don’t want anyone interrupting us. Is that alright?”

Zeke nods his head almost immediately afterward and offers Tavares a shy smile. “Yes, please.”

After that, Tavares doesn’t give a second thought to locking up the front door. Every single bit of logical thought in his head is narrowly and thoroughly focused on how  _good_  Zeke smells and how the young demon’s body feels against his own. Later they’ll have to talk, but now—

Now is the time for getting Zeke out of his clothes as fast as he can and making the best of the time that they do have.


End file.
